The Time Will Come
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #47 Still estranged, Kirk and Spock meet at last and must work together to secure the Gorkon Peace Initiative. Will there also be peace between them?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was time. On Luna, Spock shut down his computer. Rising from his desk, he left the secluded office that had been his base of operation for several weeks. His boot steps echoed in the bright, refurbished hallway of the former prison colony. Gone was the dank, dingy atmosphere he had endured as an inmate. The recirculating air smelled fresh and clean, with a pleasing hint of paint and disinfectant.

He was glad he had undertaken this "cover" assignment. Transforming the infamous Luna Correctional Facility into a zero atmosphere training base had proven to be almost as personally satisfying as his secret diplomatic exchanges with the Klingon Chancellor Gorkon, but there remained plenty of work here for his successor.

Spock suspected that Captain Kirk would openly oppose the new orders he was about to receive—orders for which Spock was directly responsible. The thought of confronting his estranged friend today at Headquarters, of working side by side with him in the coming days, brought a current of uneasiness that resisted Spock's Vulcan control.

Preparations for the emergency meeting were underway in San Francisco. Spock drew in a slow breath and headed for the shuttle bay.

oooo

Jim Kirk came into the conference room and took the seat Doctor McCoy had saved for him.

McCoy leaned his way. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up."

"Visiting a friend," Kirk said, very much aware that his breath smelled of Antonia Cordova's enchiladas. He had spent all morning with her in Idaho, and it might be the last visit for a long while. There had been rumblings of war for weeks. Was this it? Would the Federation finally square off with the Klingon Empire?

Kirk took stock of the other attendees. He and his senior officers seemed out of place amid the top brass of Starfleet. No sign of Spock, either. These days the Vulcan was definitely out of the loop. A bitter smile stirred Kirk's lips as he wondered how Spock felt about losing his chance at the Enterprise, how he liked commanding his paint brigade on the moon…

The reverie was cut short when Admiral Smillie, Starfleet's young Commander-in-Chief, abruptly arrived and called the meeting to order.

Then Smillie said, "I'll make this as simple as possible. The Klingon Empire has roughly fifty years of life left to it."

Kirk did not gasp as so many others did. Fully attentive, he leaned forward.

"For complete details," the admiral continued, "I am turning this briefing over to our special Federation envoy."

Footsteps sounded from the back of the room. Kirk turned to take a look. At the sight of Spock, he sucked in his breath and his fingernails gouged into his palms. "What the hell…?"

As Spock arrived at the lectern, Kirk forced his body to relax. He forced himself to concentrate on the incredible words falling from the Vulcan's mouth. An explosion on the Klingon moon Praxis had contaminated their home world's atmosphere and destabilized its orbit. The effect on the Klingon environment and economy had been disastrous.

Kirk's mind raced ahead. Now he understood why Klingons had begun raiding along the Neutral Zone. No doubt the entire Empire would soon swarm down upon the Federation like bees struck from their hive. War seemed certain.

He turned his attention back on Spock. The "envoy" was saying, "This past month, at the behest of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, I have opened a dialogue with Gorkon, Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. He proposes to commence negotiations at once."

"Negotiations for what?" Admiral Cartwright asked.

Kirk scarcely believed Spock's cool reply. Dismantle our space stations? Make peace with the Klingon Empire? He listened in total agreement as Cartwright rose angrily to protest offering Klingons any kind of haven within Federation space. It infuriated him to think of Spock engineering a Klingon peace summit. Like Kirk, the Vulcan had experienced his own share of Klingon treachery. He knew they could not be trusted.

As Admiral Cartwright and Admiral Smillie exchanged words, Kirk could barely restrain himself.

"Sir!" he addressed Smillie.

The C-in-C nodded. "Captain Kirk?"

"Sir, I'm no diplomat, but the Klingons have never been trustworthy. I'm forced to agree with Admiral Cartwright. This is…a terrible, a terrifying idea…"

Smillie's aide leaned toward the admiral and there was a whispered exchange. Smillie turned sympathetic eyes upon Kirk. "I had forgotten your son was killed by a Klingon."

The remark stunned and embarrassed Kirk. Admiral Smillie was using David's death to discredit his opinion in front of the entire assembly. He felt every eye turn toward him.

"Yes sir," he replied stiffly. "However—"

"I am truly sorry," Smillie cut in, "but the Federation agrees with Captain Spock's assessment. The current situation holds great promise."

At the lectern, Spock nodded. "There are those Klingons who advocate a military solution. We must act immediately and lend our support to the Gorkon Initiative."

Kirk listened as Spock described the power struggle between the Klingon warrior class and a "silent majority" that had supposedly come to power since the Praxis disaster. He held on to his anger as the Vulcan praised Chancellor Gorkon for "pursuing a peaceful solution".

The Commander-in-Chief smiled. "Captain Kirk, you are to be our first olive branch."

"Me?" Kirk gaped at Smillie in disbelief.

Whispers rustled through the audience.

Spock directly addressed Kirk. "The Enterprise will rendezvous with the ship carrying Chancellor Gorkon and his party. We will provide a safe escort through Federation space."

Kirk stared in astonishment.

Smillie gave a nod of satisfaction. "Kirk, you may find it interesting that the chancellor himself requested you and your officers for the mission."

"Me and my—" Kirk's voice gave out. "But why, in God's name?"

"Captain, you have a tough reputation among the Klingons. They would think twice before attacking the Enterprise under your command."

Coolly, Spock added, "I have personally vouched for you in this matter, Captain."

"You have personally—" Kirk was too furious to continue. Had the Vulcan forgotten what Klingons did to him and his daughter T'Beth? Kirk could remember when Spock was ruled by his hatred for the whole brutal race. Now what motivated him? Was it really the hope of peace? Or was it just another kind of revenge, a very personal revenge against him for having slipped the Vulcan's grasp—for having hidden himself in Idaho when Spock tried to take control of his life.

Kirk felt as if he had been manipulated by Spock and all of Starfleet. Obviously Spock had never really been considered to command the Enterprise. All along, Spock had been hard at work behind the scene, "in the know" while Kirk was being played like a puppet on strings.

"Captain Kirk," Smillie was saying, "you will accord Chancellor Gorkon full diplomatic courtesy."

Barely managing his anger, Kirk said, "Surely a full ambassador would be better equipped to—"

Smillie interrupted. "Captain Spock will accompany you in his role of envoy. For the duration of this mission he will also serve as your first officer…and diplomatic advisor. I wish you and your crew Godspeed. Thank you all."

The meeting was at an end.

It must have been clear to everyone that Kirk was in no mood for conversation. He stayed in his seat as the others filed out. Spock alone remained, standing by the lectern, quietly meeting the fury in Kirk's eyes.

At last, with bitter sarcasm, Kirk said, "Well, you've found a way to order me around, after all. You've even found a way to get your hands on the Enterprise—but you're a damned fool if you think the Klingons intend to negotiate in good faith. This time you're going to get us _all_ killed."

"Captain," Spock said, his tone as rational as Kirk's was heated, "I have no intention of usurping your authority. You alone must command the Enterprise. The Klingons are afraid of you. You have become a legend to them. You have earned their fear and, more importantly, their respect. This is vital to the success of the mission."

"Had I known what you were up to," Kirk said, fighting to keep his voice steady, "I would never have come back to Starfleet."

Spock merely looked at him.

"How could you do this? After all our years together—" Kirk broke off, too incensed to continue.

"Jim," Spock said with an unusual depth of emotion, "I was asked by my father to open neg—"

Kirk cut him off. "I know your father's the Vulcan ambassador, for godsake, but you know how I feel about this." An upsurge of grief nearly choked him. "You're talking about the people who killed David. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but what about T'Beth? They kidnapped your own daughter. They beat her. They _used_ her!"

Spock retreated back behind his Vulcan mask. "All Klingons did not kill David. All Klingons did not harm T'Beth. You are blaming an entire race for the acts of a few individuals."

"Spock, the entire Klingon race is made of cold-blooded murderers like Kruge, of perverted sadists like Torlath. Killing, raping, is their way of life, all they understand. They're _animals_!"

It pleased Kirk to see Spock's eyes narrow and lips part ever so slightly. So he had struck a nerve.

But the Vulcan quickly recovered himself. "You are upset, but when you have had time to consider the situation, you will agree. I, too, had my doubts at the outset, but I have found Chancellor Gorkon to be a reasonable, intelligent man. There is a historic opportunity here—"

"Don't trust them. Don't believe them," Kirk urged.

"They're dying."

"Let them die." Kirk inwardly shrank from the ugliness of his own words, but even so, he meant them.

Spock briefly glanced aside before looking back at Kirk. His voice was quiet. "We have been given a choice: peace or war. As a Vulcan, I am bound to choose peace. My choice has nothing to do with the difficulty between us. For the good of this mission, I ask that you set aside your hostile feelings toward me."

Kirk's anger rekindled. He rose up. "Yes, first officer, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just one big happy ship."

Spock came down from the lectern and walked up to him. Outwardly calm, he said, "The last time we met, you were wheelchair-bound and wanted very much to strike me. I said you would have to stand up to do it. Well, you are standing now."

Kirk felt his rage taking over. His hands balled into fists. He forced them to reopen. "This is neither the time nor the place—but believe me, the time will come."

Spock responded with an almost human appeal. "Jim…must it be so?"

"Captain, to you!" Kirk snapped. "All leaves recalled. Collect your gear and report to the Enterprise."

oooo

The Enterprise had not even left Spacedock, but the mission was already proving difficult for Spock. Kirk's current first officer had made it quite clear she did not appreciate being supplanted even temporarily, and as for the captain—he was correct, polite, and as cold as a Minnesota winter.

With three hours to warp out, Spock entered the tiny cabin assigned to him. The walls had been bare of decoration, so his eyes were drawn at once to a painting over his bunk. His eyebrow rose in puzzlement at the scaled-down version of the Chagall original that hung at home. As he studied the print, Adam and Eve became Klingons driven from their home world, facing an uncertain peace after centuries of warring. And yet again, he saw a somber reflection of himself, thrust forever from the warmth of Jim Kirk's friendship. But for Spock's wife, its meaning would be quite different.

His cabin door opened. He turned and found Lauren in full uniform, smiling at him in the taut way that had nothing to do with humor.

"Surprised?" she asked, gesturing at the Chagall print.

"To some degree," he replied. Yet he understood his wife's intent. After all, Lieutenant Valeris was aboard. The Vulcan had graduated at the top of her class the year Spock was appointed Commandant of Starfleet Academy. Before that, he had been her sponsor. It was only natural that he took satisfaction in her accomplishments. Likewise, the devotion Valeris showed him was not unusual between a student and mentor. Yet Lauren's human insecurity found reason for concern. It was, no doubt, that very insecurity that had led her to place the picture here, where he would look upon it in her absence—a silent yet eloquent reminder of past marital difficulties.

Spock found her concern somewhat amusing. His pride in Valeris was that of a teacher. He could enjoy the lieutenant's company without falling into intimacies reserved for a bondmate.

Lauren stepped closer and the door shut behind her. "I just happened to be passing through," she said, putting her arms around him. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you again and say goodbye."

Spock did not remind her that they had already said goodbye in the privacy of their home in San Francisco. He simply held her close and enjoyed her physical nearness. He would be glad when the time of secrecy was over. After the mission he would not have to withhold any part of himself from her.

Lauren drew back, her brow furrowed with concern. "How's Jim behaving?"

"Like the captain of the Enterprise," Spock replied and changed the subject. "This ship is currently restricted. As first officer I must ask you how you managed to…"

"Yes dear, I know." She took an electronic pass out of her jacket. "Doctor McCoy okayed my visit. But you're right, I better beam down before my authorization expires." Her blue eyes sobered. "No use asking you what's going on, is there?"

Spock looked upon her fondly. "No use at all."

She sighed. Rising up on her toes, she touched her lips to his. As she started to move away Spock pulled her back and delivered a proper kiss.

Lauren came away flushed and breathless. "That was _not_ a Vulcan goodbye."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "My wife, you are not a Vulcan."

oooo

"Captain's personal log, Stardate 9522.6 : First day out of Spacedock and I am still troubled about our mission to escort the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. The arguments of'—Kirk refused to name Spock as his first officer—"the _Special Federation Envoy_ have left me unmoved by any feeling but anger. I resent being forced into a position I regard as untenable, foolhardy and downright dangerous. I have never trusted Klingons and never will. I've never been able to forgive them for the death of my son. As a Starfleet officer, I am duty bound to follow orders, and I will do so. The Klingons will be extended every diplomatic courtesy. Yet I remain convinced that any attempts at dialogue with them will be futile; our cultures are simply too different, and too much hatred has been stirred up within the Federation over past atrocities…"

Kirk paused in the dictation of his personal log and looked at the portrait of David on his desk. A faint cough made him start. He whirled to find Spock's protégée standing in the open cabin doorway. Lieutenant Valeris was an attractive young Vulcan. Kirk had noticed the way she sometimes gazed at Spock, with a glow in her eyes that went well beyond simple loyalty and respect. He wondered if Spock realized she was infatuated with him. He wondered if Lauren knew. He wondered what the hell Valeris was doing here and exactly how much she had heard.

"Valeris." Kirk carefully hid his annoyance. "You should make your presence known by knocking. It's human courtesy."

The greenish hue of her complexion deepened, but she kept her composure as she said, "We are almost at the rendezvous, Captain. I thought you would want to know."

As Kirk slipped into his jacket she suddenly asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He gave the lieutenant his full attention.

"I…gather you are not enthusiastic about the assignment," she ventured. "I do not think many on board are. Sir."

Kirk felt a fresh surge of irritation. Obviously she _had_ overheard the anti-Klingon comments in his log entry. Now would Spock's starry-eyed protégée presume to lecture him? Brushing past her, he said, "I suggest you take the matter up with the special envoy."

oooo

Dressed in a meditation robe, Spock was lighting his attunement flame when the door chime sounded.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, then closed behind Lieutenant Valeris as she entered his cabin. As always, Spock was pleased to see her.

"I have come to tell you," Valeris said, "that we are arriving at the rendezvous point."

Spock nodded, but for the moment remained as he was. Valeris' eyes seemed troubled as they took in his cramped quarters and came to settle on the Chagall. Not proper Vulcan behavior, but her initiation into the disciplines had been delayed.

This was her first starship assignment. Thinking to put her at ease, Spock said, "You have done well, Valeris. In your career, in your…personal development, you have surpassed my expectations. I feel certain the captain is also satisfied with your performance."

Her face flushed. "Sometimes I seem…to annoy him."

"He is human," Spock reminded her. "I do not need to tell you that humans are an emotional race."

He had no chair to offer her, so he gestured to his neatly made bunk.

Valeris drew a breath and sat. "Sir, I mean no disrespect to the captain…"

Once more Spock nodded. There was very little he could offer her, aside from the advice he had been giving himself. "It is not so important that you understand him, but you must trust him."

He was not certain if Valeris found his response helpful. She turned her head and scrutinized the well-framed print on the wall behind her.

"Do you like the painting, Lieutenant?"

"I do not understand the representation," she replied.

"It is a depiction from an ancient religious text on Earth. The Expulsion from Paradise."

She frowned. "Why keep it in your cabin?"

Spock suppressed a smile. "Among other thing, it is a reminder to me…that even in the midst of failure one might find a new beginning."

Valeris rose, her expression openly incredulous. "Sir, if by failure you mean your recent imprisonment…" She broke off with a look of chagrin. "Oh, sir…"

This time Spock permitted himself the suggestion of a smile. "It's alright, Lieutenant. You have not caused any offense."

Her expression remained as intense as ever. "Sir, I realize that your confinement was not due to any failure on your part—yet it is of failure that I wish to speak. I address you as a kindred intellect. Now that a turning point has been reached in the affairs of the Federation, I am concerned that we might choose the wrong path."

"History is filled with turning points," Spock said. Seeing her puzzlement, he added, "You must have faith."

"Faith..?"

"That the universe will unfold as it should."

"It that logical?" she asked. "Surely we must take action to—"

Captain Kirk's voice broke over the intercom. "Klingon battle cruiser off the port bow. All hands on deck. Mister Spock, _kindly_ report to the bridge."

One feminine brow rose. "The captain seems…"

Ignoring her remark, Spock slipped off his meditation robe and donned his uniform jacket. "We were speaking of logic. It is the beginning of wisdom, Lieutenant, not the end." He started for the door, then hesitated. "This will be my last voyage aboard this ship as a member of her crew. A Vulcan of your demonstrated ability should have no difficulty rising to the occasion. As you are aware, nature abhors a vacuum. It is my wish that you replace me."

Her dark, shining eyes gazed up at him. "I could only succeed you, sir—never replace you."

They left for the bridge together.

oooo

After a tense day playing host to the Klingons, Jim Kirk sat in the officers' mess where dinner was—so far—proceeding smoothly. His fingers toyed with a half-drained goblet of Romulan ale as he made polite conversation with Chancellor Gorkon and his daughter Azetbur.

It was Lieutenant Valeris who had suggested serving the ale. Predictably, Spock had taken Kirk aside to say, "Captain, is that wise?" Which of course meant, "Captain, might you get drunk?" Down the table, Spock was keeping a wary eye on him, monitoring every sip, no doubt gauging his fitness to command.

Chancellor Gorkon proposed the first in a series of toasts. Kirk looked over at Spock and took a deliberate, fiery swallow. The evening progressed. Here and there discussions began to take on the strident sound of argument, but as Kirk downed more ale he felt curiously detached.

Suddenly General Chang turned to him. "Captain Kirk, are you willing to give up Starfleet—for the sake of peace?"

Kirk stared at the one-eyed Klingon, struggling to summon an appropriately diplomatic response.

Spock's voice rose calmly. "I believe the captain feels that Starfleet's mission has always been one of peace."

Kirk glared at the Vulcan. "Far be it from me to dispute my…esteemed first officer. Starfleet has always been—"

Chang interrupted. Kirk sat by, silent, as the discussion quickly escalated into a shouting match between his crew and the Klingon delegation. He felt the numbing effects of the liquor working on him and experienced an unexpected sense of shame. Every human at the table was flushed from the potent ale. Of Kirk's officers, Spock alone maintained his usual placid demeanor, for all the good it did. Thankfully, Chancellor Gorkon and Azetbur also remained—if one could say it of a Klingon—reasonable.

Kirk was quite glad when the Klingons returned to their ship. He fully anticipated that Spock would follow him into the lift and blame him for the debacle—as if this whole diplomatic nightmare weren't Spock's doing from beginning to end. But Kirk walked alone to his quarters. Unfastening his jacket, he sat on his bunk and rubbed his aching temples. After a brief log entry he lay on his back and closed his eyes. He was drifting on the verge of sleep when the intercom sounded.

Spock's voice broke through. "Captain Kirk, will you please join me on the bridge? Captain Kirk…"

What _now_?

oooo

Spock had more on his mind than the evening's "diplomatic" dinner. The bridge viewscreen showed the Klingon battle cruiser Kronos One keeping station beside the Enterprise. All appeared well, but for the disturbing readout at the science station. He was rechecking his data when the turbolift doors hissed open and Captain Kirk walked in.

Tensing, Spock straightened. "Captain."

Kirk glanced at the main viewscreen and turned hostile eyes on Spock. "This better be good."

Even under the best of circumstances, dealing with the captain was not easy these days. Romulan ale would only add to the difficulty. Nevertheless, Spock reported the surge of neutron radiation that appeared to be emanating from the Enterprise. He was detailing his system checks when a photon torpedo streaked from the base of the viewscreen and impacted Kronos with blinding force.

"What the—" Kirk squinted into the glare.

Quickly Spock consulted the science station. He could scarcely believe the readout. "We have fired on the chancellor's ship."

As Kirk delivered a spate of orders, a second torpedo struck Kronos.

"Who's _doing_ that?" Kirk demanded.

Spock's readout spewed data and he watched all hope for peace fade before his eyes. "The Klingon ship's hull has been breeched," he reported. "They have lost gravity and are slowly losing life support. Damage to the vessel is severe." Straightening, he faced the captain. "They never even raised their shields."

Kirk gave him a searing look, then turned away as the viewscreen came alive with a furious image of General Chang. The Klingon briefly screamed at Kirk in his native language before the screen went dark.

Uhura fingered her earpiece. "He says we've fired at them in a blatant act of war."

"We _haven't_ fired…" Kirk insisted.

"According to the data bank, we have," Spock said. "Twice."

As Kronos came about and prepared to attack, Chekov swiveled his head. "Shields up, Keptin?"

Kirk stared at the screen. Grimly he said, "Uhura, signal our surrender."

Spock looked up in surprise.

"But Captain—" Uhura said.

Kirk repeated, "We surrender." As Uhura complied, he went to his command chair and called below. "Torpedo bay. Did we fire those torpedoes?"

"Negative, Captain," came the reply. "According to inventory, we're still fully loaded."

With his hand on the com button, Kirk turned and met Spock's eyes. "Well, Mister Spock, have we fired or haven't we?"

Once more Spock checked the information on his viewer. "Data banks reconfirm, Captain. Two photon torpedoes fired."

Kirk ordered torpedo bay, "Stand down your weapons."

A tense silence settled over the bridge.

Spock studied his viewer. "The Klingons appear to be holding their fire, Captain."

Kirk came over to the science station and motioning Spock aside, checked the data banks for himself.

Kirk straightened, his face resolute. Without looking at Spock, he said, "I'm going aboard the Kronos. You have the con."

Spock stepped in his way. "I am responsible for involving you in this, Captain. I will go."

Anger flared in Kirk's eyes. "You will _not_. It will be your responsibility to get me out of this."

Spock always kept a viridium patch close at hand in case of emergency. He had intended to use it on himself, but now he surreptitiously pressed the viridium to Kirk's shoulder and said, "Be careful."

Kirk shrugged away from the contact as if thinking Spock might disable him with a nerve pinch. "I hope you're satisfied," he said in parting.

oooo

Doctor McCoy accompanied Kirk as he beamed off the Enterprise. Kirk was still steaming. It was no selfless, heroic urge that had made Spock volunteer to go in his place. Ale or no ale, Spock did not trust him with the Klingons. The touch of Spock's hand had made Kirk sick to his stomach. The sense of queasiness deepened as they arrived in the Kronos transporter room.

Klingon blasters nudged Kirk's head. Heart pounding, he raised his hands in surrender, and McCoy followed his example. Heavily armed guards hurried them through corridors drenched with red-violet blood. Dismembered corpses and their severed limbs were everywhere. Kirk struggled to make sense of the carnage. Since there was no damage to this area of the ship, the injuries could not have resulted from any torpedo.

They came to Gorkon's stateroom where the chancellor lay bleeding in the arms of his daughter, Azetbur.

"My God," Kirk said, "what's happened here?"

General Chang sprang toward him. "You, Kirk! You crippled our gravitational field with a torpedo hit. Two Starfleet crewmen beamed aboard in magnetic boots and they did this! We have witnesses!"

The incredible accusation left Kirk speechless. He watched as McCoy convinced the Klingons to let him try to save Gorkon since their own medical officer was dead. He forced himself not to flinch at the sight of the man's wounds. It seemed impossible that he was still alive.

"Jim, hold him," McCoy said.

Kirk overcame his prejudice enough to grip the Klingon's arms. As McCoy worked on Gorkon, the chancellor's bloody hands closed over Kirk's wrists.

Looking into Kirk's eyes, Gorkon gasped, "Are…you…alright?"

The question shook Kirk. Gorkon was at death's door and he was worrying about a human? Kirk seemed to hear the echo of his own words. _They're animals._ _Let them die._ Yet now he found himself hoping against hope, even praying in his own way, that McCoy would somehow work a medical miracle and save this one Klingon. But it was not to be.

oooo

On the bridge of the Enterprise, the senior officers solemnly received Uhura's announcement. "They've been arrested for the assassination of Chancellor Gorkon!"

Spock felt the burden of responsibility settle more heavily on his shoulders. With Gorkon's death, the galaxy had lost its best hope—perhaps its only hope—for peace. Under the circumstances he was not surprised that Kirk and McCoy had been arrested. It was fortunate that he had attached a viridium patch to Kirk before he boarded the Klingon vessel. If the Klingon court ruled against Kirk and McCoy, Spock might be able to track them and attempt a rescue—although he did not yet know how that could be accomplished without provoking a war. It would take some time for the Klingons to transport their prisoners to the trial site and conduct the trial itself. For now, Spock could do no more than keep the Enterprise safe and carry out his own shipboard investigation. He was glad that three trusted officers were there to assist him: Uhura, Chekov, and Scott. He was quite certain he could depend on Lieutenant Valeris, as well.

Now, in the presence of the bridge crew, he said, "I assume command of this ship as of oh-two-thirty hours. Uhura, notify Starfleet Headquarters. Explain precisely what has taken place and request instructions."

She turned to comply.

It would be hours before he received those instructions. Perhaps by then he would know how to respond to them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The courtroom was nothing more than a gigantic, dimly lit cavern. Countless seating tiers had been carved from the rock, and every inch was occupied. Deep down at the center was the prisoner's dock where Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy stood in a spotlight awaiting Klingon justice.

"Kirk, Kirk, Kirk," the Klingons chanted.

Kirk gripped the dock rail. Chancellor Gorkon's death had deeply affected him, but he felt nothing but contempt for these other Klingons. All, that is, but Azetbur. Though he had not spoken to her since the night her father died, her presence gave him a glimmer of hope. She had been named Chancellor in her father's place. Like her father, Azetbur seemed reasonable, compassionate, intelligent. Surely she would not believe that Kirk had conspired to kill Gorkon.

From high above, the presiding judge demanded quiet.

General Chang emerged from the shadows, his face smug as he presented his case against Kirk. Lies, all lies interspersed with humiliating questions.

"Were you drunk at the state dinner aboard the Enterprise?"

"Did you not serve Romulan ale, a beverage illegal in the Federation because of its overwhelming potency?"

"Is it not a fact that you frequently overindulge in alcoholic beverages—that, due to habitual drunkenness you were for a time, this past year, barely able to handle your own affairs, let alone command a starship?"

A roar went up from the spectators. Anger, guilt, and pain rendered Kirk speechless.

Beside him McCoy growled, "Where the hell did he get that?"

Chang leaned over and shouted in Kirk's face, "Isn't is a fact!"

Kirk barely resisted an urge to strike him. "I was not drunk at the dinner! You were there!"

Chang gave a faint, hateful smile and turned his attention on McCoy. Question followed question as the Klingon worked to vilify McCoy's effort to save Chancellor Gorkon.

But Chang was not finished with Kirk yet. "And now we come to the architect of this tragic affair. Captain James Tiberius Kirk. I put it to you, Captain, that you were seeking revenge for the death of your son."

"That isn't true!" Kirk insisted.

"That, either as an instrument of Federation policy or acting on your own drunken initiative, you and your fellow conspirators crippled Kronos One and cold-bloodedly assassinated the chancellor of the High Council. Then you and Doctor McCoy went aboard to make certain the job was complete. I offer into record the following excerpt from Captain Kirk's personal log." He gave a signal to someone at the far end of the room.

A recording of Kirk's voice filled the chamber. "I've never trusted Klingons and never will…I have never been able to forgive them for the death of my son…"

The cavern erupted in disorder until the judge pounded his metal glove.

Kirk stood stiff and horrified. He was vaguely aware of McCoy turning to him.

"Are those your words?" asked Chang.

Kirk had no choice but to admit it. Now they did not have a chance in hell of escaping conviction.

Chang circled in for the kill, calling Kirk "an insubordinate, unprincipled career opportunist with a history of violating the chain of command." He brought up Kirk's demotion from admiral on charges of insubordination.

Then Chang asked, "And were you obeying or disobeying orders the night you arranged the assassination of Chancellor Gorkon?"

Kirk flared, "I was unaware of the assassination until I boarded his ship!"

Chang's clever queries barely gave Kirk a chance to respond, even if he'd had the necessary information.

"You deny Enterprise fired on Kronos One? You deny that your men beamed aboard Kronos One and shot the Chancellor?"

Kirk said, "I cannot confirm or deny actions which I did not witness."

"Captain Kirk, are you aware that, under Federation law, the captain of a starship is considered responsible for the actions of his crew?"

Though Kirk clearly saw where this was leading, he admitted, "I am."

Chang's dark eyes narrowed. "So if it should prove that members of your crew did in fact carry out the assassination…"

McCoy shouted, "You've proved nothing!"

"The defendant will be silent!" ordered the judge. "Captain Kirk, you will answer the question."

Kirk felt a heaviness settle into his soul. "As captain…I am responsible for the conduct of the crew under my command."

oooo

The show trial had been freely broadcast all through the Federation. From the safety of the Enterprise bridge, Spock watched with his senior officers as the condemned prisoners were led away.

A life sentence on Rura Penthe, commonly known as the alien's graveyard.

He could not tear his eyes from the screen. It was he who had volunteered the Enterprise and her captain for this mission. Jim had accused him of manipulation, and there was some truth in that. Spock alone should have boarded Kronos One and faced the consequences. He knew what it was like to be falsely accused of a crime, and convicted. Yet for all its flaws, the Starfleet prison system was benevolent compared to the brutal Klingon gulags. No one could survive a stay of any length on Rura Penthe. Spock's dedication to Starfleet regulations briefly warred with his burning need to save the captain and Doctor McCoy. Then he made his decision. There was a time when Jim would have risked everything for him. There was a time when Jim _had_ risked everything.

Spock ordered the visuals of the torpedo attack replayed. Clearly some ship fired those torpedoes. If not the Enterprise, then…

oooo

Deep in the shadowy bowels of Rura Penthe, Jim Kirk flopped down on a filthy bunk and hunkered deep into the ragged fur coat that had been issued to him. He ached from the unrelenting cold. His face was bruised and scabbed from his first brutal encounter with the alien prison population. And it would not be the last. There was talk of a reward posted for his and McCoy's death.

Kirk rolled over and faced McCoy in the next bunk. The doctor looked dazed, exhausted. Kirk blamed himself for bringing McCoy aboard the Kronos, but there was someone else he blamed even more.

"Well," he said bitterly, "I certainly hope Spock is satisfied."

McCoy's head lifted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Kirk stared into the gloom. "This whole mission was his doing, from start to finish. It's why he came back to Starfleet. But that wasn't enough for him—he had to go drag me into it, along with everyone else. He had to get his revenge."

McCoy made a sound of exasperation. "Are you implying that Spock's harboring some kind of grudge against you? Because you ran off before he could put you in detox?"

"Oh, Spock would never call it anything as emotional as a grudge."

"I suppose you think," McCoy said heatedly, "that Spock fired those torpedoes himself—sabotaged his own peace efforts—just to get back at you?"

Kirk bristled. "I didn't say that!"

"Then what exactly _are_ you saying?"

Kirk felt cornered, defensive. He wished he had kept his mouth shut. "I should have known that you'd take Spock's side. I'm only saying that…that he's not going to lose any sleep over this."

McCoy rose up on his elbow. "You know what I think? I think that alien should have kicked your ass a little harder. Jim, you're the one nursing a grudge. You can't stand that Spock tried to get you declared incompetent. He tried to force you to crawl out of that bottle of yours and get the help you needed. He never gave up. Why, if you had any sense, you'd realize he was a better friend to you than any of us."

Kirk subsided into a resentful silence. It was no use arguing with McCoy, and he badly needed rest. Tomorrow he would start work—long, grueling hours of physical labor under whip-cracking Klingon taskmasters. If only he could shut out the cold, the pain, the mounting sense of despair.

A sleepless hour had passed when he became aware of someone lurking in the darkness, moving from prisoner to prisoner, knocking them out—or worse. Glancing McCoy's way, he caught the doctor's eye and held himself ready.

"Kirk," came a whisper, "it's me, Martia."

Kirk let out his breath in relief. The exotic alien woman had befriended them when they first arrived.

Hunkering down by Kirk's bunk, Martia said very quietly, "Listen. No one has ever escaped from Rura Penthe, but it _is_ possible. Getting outside the shield is easy. But it would be up to you to get us off the surface before we freeze. Can you?"

Kirk groaned. "In the heart of the Klingon Empire? Not damn likely."

McCoy reared up, his eyes shining with hope. "Spock will be looking for us. He'll find a way."

"Spock?" Martia repeated.

Disheartened, Kirk said, "Give it up, Bones. By now your Vulcan friend is halfway to Earth."

He turned his back to them both. The ragged coat slipped from his shoulder, but he was too exhausted to care.

"Martia, wait." McCoy rose off his bunk and came up behind Kirk. "Jim. Listen to me. Spock won't—"

"Go to sleep," Kirk growled.

McCoy's hand settled on his shoulder. His fingers moved around, and then he gasped. "Jim—there's a damn viridium patch on your uniform! He'll use it to find us!"

"What?" Disbelieving, Kirk reached behind him and felt the bumpy little patch for himself. He remembered Spock touching him before he left the bridge, how he had pulled back, angry and suspicious.

Martia leaned over him, desperate. "I can't make it alone."

Kirk hesitated. Did he dare to trust Spock? Had he misjudged the Vulcan?

"If we stay here, we're dead," McCoy argued. "Now either come along or give me the damn patch and _I'll_ go with her."

Kirk drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. "Okay. We'll go."

oooo

The Enterprise hovered on the edge of Klingon space. Having completed his evening meditation, Spock reclined on his bunk. He gazed thoughtfully at the flickering attunement flame as he awaited word from the bridge. It was quite possible that, since Kirk's trial, the captain had been forced to surrender his marked uniform, and word from the bridge would never come.

Meanwhile, Spock reviewed the current situation. He had surmised that the photon torpedoes were likely shot from a new type of Klingon ship—one that could discharge weapons while cloaked. It appeared that someone had altered the Enterprise data banks to make it seem as if the torpedoes had been fired from her. If so, the guilty party was still aboard—and probably also involved with the murder of Chancellor Gorkon. The ship-wide investigation had yielded some pieces of evidence—two pairs of misappropriated gravity boots and traces of Klingon blood on the transporter pad—both of which were more likely to convict the captain than exonerate him. If indeed there were conspirators aboard the Enterprise, they must be found—not only for Kirk and McCoy's sake, but also for the sake of the jeopardized peace talks.

Under Spock's orders, Valeris was continuing the investigation. Valeris reminded him very much of himself, of the young Spock—despairing at the reality of her emotions while struggling to master them. Spock found himself in a very different situation now. He no longer feared his emotions, but valued them and desired to use them—in a controlled manner—to enhance his life.

His gaze rose to the Chagall and lingered. Since rendezvousing with Kronos One, there had been little time to think of his wife and children back in San Francisco, but no doubt Lauren was thinking about him. The Klingons had torn the veil of secrecy from the Kronos Mission. Lauren would have heard their propaganda releases. She would have seen Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy convicted of assassination and led off to Rura Penthe. She would be worried about them all, but most of all about her husband.

Closing his eyes, Spock attempted to empty his mind and rest.

The intercom shrilled.

Spock was already sitting up when Uhura's voice burst from the speaker. "Mister Spock, I've got them! We've located the captain and Doctor McCoy!"

oooo

The setting suns of Rura Penthe cast an eerie glow over the trackless miles of frozen wasteland. Bitter cold and the miserable drag of his leg irons had taken their toll on Kirk. Numbly he sank down beside McCoy. The huge ape-like creature that Martia had become now produced a mine flare from its coat and lit it. Kirk had been shocked to see her metamorphose the first time, but he had come to appreciate her talent as a shape-shifter. It was the only thing that had gotten them this far.

Dusk swiftly gave way to utter blackness, and the temperature plummeted still lower. Kirk and McCoy huddled as close as possible to the warming flare held by the creature. Suddenly the creature morphed into the much more pleasing shape of Martia.

Abruptly she said, "We're outside the shield. Now it's your turn, Kirk. Where's the ship?"

Kirk was too drained, too near despair to tell her that he was wondering the same thing. He had hung a slim hope on the viridium patch; he had let himself think that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong about Spock.

But then where _was_ he?

"Spock will find a way," McCoy said in a voice faint from exhaustion. His face was white with frostbite; he looked on the verge of collapse.

Kirk pulled his coat over his ears and let his eyes drift shut.

A sound of footsteps roused him. _Spock? Could it be?_

With an effort he opened his eyes and came nose to nose with a slavering Klingon guard dog. Instinctively he recoiled. Beyond the leashed animal stood the camp commandant and several torch-bearing Klingons, all heavily armed.

Kirk's heart sank. As he got to his feet, the commandant fired a blaster at Martia and she shimmered away to nothing. The blaster turned toward McCoy, huddled in the snow.

Kirk prepared to leap in the line of fire. "I'm the one you want, not him. Killed trying to escape—it's a classic."

The Klingon grinned. "That's what he wanted."

"Who?" Kirk glanced at the commandant's weapon, measuring the distance. There was no chance of escaping death, but with luck he could take a couple of Klingons with him.

The commandant's eyes narrowed. "I have heard you humans once had the custom of granting the condemned one wish before execution; we Klingons still have a similar custom. I will grant you this courtesy before death. Why not tell you? His name is…"

The words were lost in the ringing disorientation of a transporter effect. The torch-lit scene faded from Kirk's view and he found himself standing in the bright warmth of the Enterprise transporter room. McCoy was safe beside him.

He should have been thrilled; instead he was hopping mad. "Son of a bitch! Dammit! Dammit all to hell!"

Spock's brow quirked upward. "Captain?"

"I was one second away from learning the truth about Gorkon's assassination!"

Chekov stifled a smile as he bent down to burn off Kirk's heavy leg irons with a laser tool. Casually he asked, "You want to go back?"

"Absolutely not!" McCoy roared. "Jim, what the hell's the matter with you? We were just rescued!"

With an effort, Kirk brought himself back under control. They _had_ been rescued—by none other than Spock. And now the Vulcan's eyes were hooded, carefully observing his captain's reaction, expecting more of the harsh treatment he had come to expect.

What had become of their friendship? Standing there, Kirk felt the last of his resentment toward Spock melting away.

"Spock," he said, deliberately dropping the Mister, "we have to find out where they're holding the peace conference. That will likely be the next target."

The change of tone was not lost on the Vulcan. With a searching look, Spock nodded. "Agreed, Captain."

The entire group headed for the bridge. As they reached the turbolift, Mister Scott came rushing up the corridor, crumpled uniforms in his hands. "Captain!" he cried, obviously startled to find Kirk aboard ship. Unfazed by Kirk's scruffy appearance, he reported, "Mister Spock, I've found two uniforms with Klingon blood on them! They belong to—"

The turbolift doors slid open, revealing two fallen crewmen. McCoy wearily knelt beside the bodies and examined them. He shook his head. "They're gone."

"But…" Scott hesitated. "But the uniforms—they belong to these men!"

McCoy sighed. "Not anymore."

"First rule of assassination," Kirk said, "always kill the assassins."

Since the day of his trial he had been certain there was a conspirator aboard the Enterprise. Only one crewmember had overheard the portion of his personal log used against him. Now she had murdered her two accomplices.

Kirk met Spock's gaze and held it, reluctant to voice his suspicion of the Vulcan's protégée. At last he drew a breath. "Spock, can I talk to you for a moment?"

oooo

A trap was set and Spock lay waiting. There had been a ship-wide announcement scheduling depositions for the two "injured" crewmen found in the turbolift. Before long, the sickbay door slid open. In the darkness Spock listened to furtive steps approaching his bed. By prearrangement, a single overhead light switched on to reveal the culprit.

Lieutenant Valeris stared at him, wide-eyed, a phaser in hand.

Too disappointed and angry to consider his personal safety, Spock sat up and said, "Why do you hesitate? I am just another threat to your plans, I am no different from the others. _Kill_ me."

"I don't want to," she whispered.

"I believe you," Spock said. "But what you want it irrelevant. What you have chosen is at hand." He nodded at the phaser.

Her trembling fingers tightened on the weapon and as she took aim he realized that his emotional response to his protégé's betrayal had made him unconscionably reckless. There would not even be a body for Lauren to claim.

Captain Kirk rose from the next bed. Valeris' attention shifted to him and she gave a start. Then she noticed Doctor McCoy emerging from the shadows.

 _"I_ would rather you wouldn't kill him," Kirk said.

Recovering from the close call, Spock sprang from bed and struck the phaser out of Valeris' hand. Frozen in place, she watched her weapon skitter across the floor. Then silently she looked at Spock and tears welled in her eyes.

oooo

The interrogation of Valeris took place on the bridge. Spock would have chosen a more private area, but he was no longer in command. He stood aside, watching, as Kirk questioned Valeris. She defended her acts of murder and sabotage with an eloquence that had once made him proud. Now, it only served to feed his continuing anger.

"Can you honestly say that you disagree with me?" she demanded of Kirk. "Klingons cannot be trusted, sir. You said so yourself. They murdered your son. They've murdered countless settlers in a pattern that has been repeated for centuries. You would make peace with them? Did you not wish Gorkon dead? 'Let them die', you said. Did I misinterpret you?"

Kirk was startled. "I said that to Spock after the briefing with Admiral Smillie. That room was supposed to be secure."

"But you were right," Valeris insisted. "The Klingons conspired with us to assassinate their own chancellor. How trustworthy can they be?"

"Us?" Kirk seized on the word. "Who is _us_?"

"Everyone who stands to lose from peace," Valeris replied. "The universe was a well-ordered place. We all knew our roles. Ours was to protect those within the Federation from the Klingon threat. Why change them?"

Kirk stepped toward her. "Names, Lieutenant!"

She lifted her chin in silent defiance.

Spock did not have long to consider how the captain would proceed.

"Spock," Kirk said quietly, turning to face him.

Spock knew what his captain expected, but there were ethical rules governing a Vulcan's use of the mind meld. It was not a procedure anyone could command from him. That meant Jim was asking for a personal favor.

Spock held Kirk's steady gaze and nodded. He briefly closed his eyes, preparing to meet headlong the pain of Valeris' duplicity. Then he approached her and slowly reached for her face.

Wide-eyed, she shrank away.

He moved closer until the fingers of both hands firmly gripped her temples. He was very much aware of his fellow officers watching, and struggled to contain his anger. In his present state he could easily have forced his way into Valeris' mind, but coming up against her thoughts, he stopped himself…and asked permission to proceed deeper. The courtesy stunned her. As she wavered, Spock began to share all that he and his daughter had once suffered at the hands of Klingons; how he had hated them; how he had gradually turned from his hatred. He revealed how Chancellor Gorkon had led him to a place of trust he would not have thought possible. Last of all he showed Valeris that despite his bitter disappointment, he now called on her to choose the right course. Then he waited.

Valeris wavered a moment before opening her mind to him. _To please you,_ her thoughts whispered, aching with unexpected adoration. The depth of her love startled Spock. Lauren, in her own way, had tried to warn him—but he had not seen it for himself, even though he might have expected it. Such a thing had happened once before, when he was commandant of Starfleet Academy. Now, as then, he stood wondering what he might have done differently.

Spock refocused on the business at hand. Softly, without emotion, he spoke the conspirators' names as Valeris surrendered them. "General Chang…Romulan Ambassador Nanclus…Admiral Cartwright…" A fourth name arose, striking a deep, painful chord within Spock. This one he kept to himself.

Kirk's voice came from afar. "Where is the conference?"

Spock searched, but Valeris did not have the information. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew from her mind and stood gazing into her sorrowful eyes.

"She does not know."

"Then we're dead," Scott said.

Spock forced his attention back to his crewmates. In rescuing Kirk and McCoy, he had defied Starfleet regulations and broken the chain of command, making the Enterprise an outlaw vessel. But there would be one starship willing to help them reach the conference and prevent further bloodshed.

"Captain, the Excelsior should have the coordinates of the conference location."

"Why would they give them to us?" Kirk wondered.

Spock raised an eyebrow. Of course, Jim did not know the identity of Excelsior's newly appointed commander. So he reported, "Their captain's name is Sulu."

oooo

After a shower and a shave, Kirk yearned for the comfort of bed, but there was a matter that would not wait. With the Enterprise hurtling through Klingon space toward the Khitomer conference, he shook off a surge of nervousness and pushed the chime at Spock's cabin.

The door slid open. It was nearly dark inside and utterly still. Was Spock resting? Feeling like an intruder, Kirk stepped into the doorway. He was embarrassed by the tiny quarters he had assigned to his acting first officer. The cabin was little more than a broom closet.

"Spock?"

"Here," Spock's voice came from within.

Kirk squinted into the dim, claustrophobic space and saw the silhouette of Spock's form on the bunk. He went inside and the door slid shut behind him. His stomach tensed as he remembered his confrontation with Spock at Headquarters. Well, the time had finally come—this was the proper time and the proper place—but what he had to say was not going to be easy.

"You saved my life," he began.

For a moment Spock lay silent. Then he said, "It was my arrogant presumption that put us in the situation. I trusted Valeris too much. I was prejudiced by her achievements as a Vulcan."

Kirk had come here to "dine on ashes". He had not expected an apology from Spock. "Wait a minute. You didn't mastermind this mission. You were recruited, just like me. Admiral Cartwright knew about our history with Klingons. He hand-picked us, hoping we'd turn out as sympathetic as Valeris to his cause."

Spock turned his head and looked at him. "I was recruited by my father."

"And no doubt approved heartily by Cartwright. Wasn't he also the one who appointed you commandant of Starfleet Academy? Have you ever wondered why?"

Spock's gaze shifted back to the ceiling. "Indeed. Most interesting. In my interview, he took note of the psyche evaluation I failed due to anti-Klingon prejudice. He may have hoped I would transfer that same prejudice to the cadets."

"Well, he was wrong," Kirk said, drawing a deep breath. "And I've been wrong about you, too." He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he forged ahead, feeling his way, trying to think of words that would knit together the tattered remnants of their friendship. "Spock, I'm sorry. I was so full of wounded pride, I couldn't see straight. If you hadn't stepped in, if you hadn't forced the issue of my health into court, I'd still be rotting away in that damn wheelchair—or dead."

Spock sat up and faced him. "The mission is not over. I may yet get us both killed."

"Then we'll die friends," Kirk said firmly. He held out his hand.

As Spock returned the handclasp, Kirk smiled in relief. Now, at last, he could rest. He turned for the door, but Spock's voice stopped him.

"Jim."

He found the Vulcan standing.

"Yes, Spock?"

"There was…another name among those Valeris divulged to me. It was not a name I wished to reveal in front of the others."

"Oh?" Kirk stepped closer, his mind awhirl with dozens of sinister possibilities, wanting to reject them all. "Who, Spock?"

Devoid of all expression, Spock said, "A Klingon commanded the protoship Dakrohn that was positioned beneath the Enterprise. It was he who fired the torpedoes into Kronos One. His name is…Torlath."

Kirk sucked in his breath. Torlath, whose son Kruge murdered David on the Genesis planet. Torlath, who blamed Kirk for Kruge's death—who kidnapped Spock and T'Beth in an attempt to gain vengeance—who abused them both in horrendous ways. Thinking back to the day he rescued Spock and his daughter, he envisioned Torlath's stunned body—a huge dark man with a grizzled head of hair. Vividly he recalled Spock's murderous rage and how he held the Vulcan back. Abruptly the image shifted to his own recent trial, to a man lurking near an exit, eyes flaming with hatred. "Wait a minute. I _saw_ him—he was at my trial!" And very quietly he added, "You were right that day we rescued you. I _should_ have let you kill him."

oooo

As the Enterprise neared Khitomer, Spock bent over his scanners, intent on catching some sign, however minute, of the Dakrohn's presence. The only sign he could expect was a neutron radiation surge, and they would likely be fired upon before coming close enough to register it.

Kirk quietly came up beside him. "In beaming range yet?"

"Not yet." Spock straightened. It was good to feel the old rapport between them, to speak without first considering and reconsidering his every word lest Jim somehow take offense. "Captain, perhaps we're going about this the wrong way. By deliberately drawing Dakrohn's fire, we would at least be certain she is out there."

Kirk drew in a breath. "You're right."

They both knew there was nothing else they could do, except hope for Sulu and Excelsior's hypersensitive scanners to arrive in time.

Kirk returned to his command chair and after a moment's consideration ordered, "Shields. Battle stations. Mr. Chekov, take us forward. Thrusters only. One-half impulse power."

Abruptly the ship heaved from an explosive impact.

Spock grabbed for the scanner hood and managed to steady himself. A second explosion slammed him into the control panel. Somewhere behind him, he heard Kirk's voice.

"She's there, alright. Scotty, reverse engines! All astern one-half impulse power! Back off!"

Spock studied his scanners in a fruitless effort to locate the proto-ship. The Dakrohn would keep her distance. She would fire at will. It was only a matter of time until the Enterprise shields gave way.

Yet for now, there was silence.

"What's she waiting for?" Kirk wondered aloud, his eyes on the main viewscreen.

"No doubt attempting to ascertain why we have reversed course," Spock offered. "Wondering if we have detected her."

Kirk jumped as Chang's mocking voice burst over the bridge.

"Be honest, Captain. Warrior to warrior. Don't you prefer it this way? As it was meant to be? No peace in _our_ time…"

Kirk pressed the intercom button. "The time is over for the likes of you and Torlath. Revenge won't accomplish anything, it can't stop peace from coming."

Another photon torpedo streaked toward the Enterprise.

"Ahead full impulse!" Kirk ordered.

The evasive maneuver was successful. Kirk tried to keep Chang talking over the intercom, but soon the ship reeled under another torpedo hit. Damage reports flooded in.

Spock bent over his viewer and frowned at the readings. "Captain, sensors reveal faint traces of plasma."

Kirk looked his way. Standing by the command chair, Doctor McCoy listened hopefully.

"Under impulse power," Spock quietly explained, "she expends fuel like any other ship. We call it plasma or ionized gas. The tremendous power drain caused by simultaneous use of the cloaking device and the weapons systems cannot be without cost. Perhaps they must reduce cloaking power shortly before firing."

"Which would explain the traces of plasma," Kirk surmised.

"Precisely. They may be unable to completely cloak the exhaust products of their impulse engines. But accurate targeting will prove difficult."

Kirk's eyes narrowed in thought. "The portable equipment in the science lab, for atmospheric analysis…"

Spock immediately grasped the idea. "An ion sensor grafted onto a torpedo…"

McCoy broke into a crooked grin. "Sounds like surgery to me. Spock, I can help."

A moment later they were racing side by side toward the science lab. There, Spock located one of the heavy sensors and strained to lift it. McCoy grasped the lighter end and they hurried down the pitching corridor together.

"Just like old times, "McCoy gasped, "saving the galaxy…you and Jim…back together."

Spock glanced at him, surprised as much by McCoy's words as his own depth of affection for the doctor. "You have done your own share of saving," Spock reminded him.

McCoy grunted with exertion. "And we're not…through yet."

They arrived at the torpedo bay. Spock calibrated the sensor while McCoy drilled into the torpedo's nose.

"Spock…" Kirk's voice filtered overhead. "Where's my torpedo?"

Spock completed the delicate adjustment, but McCoy was still working frantically to enlarge the hole. Resisting an urge to take over, Spock said, "Calm yourself, Doctor. The operation is almost complete."

McCoy cast him a startled look of amusement, then rapidly finished the job. Spock lifted the sensor and McCoy helped ease it into place.

The doctor beamed with satisfaction. "Jim, she's ready! Lock and load!"

Before they could reach the bridge, Dakrohn disintegrated in a fireball.

oooo

In the mountains of Idaho it had snowed all morning, a light but steady shower of flakes that delighted Spock's children. They ran outdoors repeatedly to play in the soft white layer accumulating around Antonia Cordova's house. By late afternoon the storm gave way to sunshine. Lauren and Antonia turned from their daylong discussion of art and medicine and family, to dinner preparations. The sound of their frequent laughter amazed Spock. He had never known his naturally reserved wife to establish such an immediate bond with anyone.

Kirk had promised the children a horseback ride if the weather improved, and now they reminded him in loud, persistent voices. Dressed warmly, Spock followed Jim out to the barn and watched him saddle Antonia's pure black horse while Simon and the twins fidgeted with excitement. Kirk seated Teresa and James double before leading the happy pair in circles around the barnyard. When Simon's turn came, Kirk gave him a few simple instructions and let him control the horse on his own.

Spock repeated the humorous piece of advice Kirk had once given him on a planet where the horses were blue…and very fast. "Be one with the horse, Simon!"

Kirk laughed and came over. He slowly sobered as his gaze took in the picturesque log house, the mountain peaks, and snow-clad conifers. Quietly he said, "The barn needs to be bigger. I'm going to buy a couple of horses for myself…maybe more. There's an interesting breed called Appaloosas. They've all but died out, now. Maybe I can do something about that."

Spock raised an eyebrow. Was the captain giving up his apartment in San Francisco? Did he intend to spend all his shore time here with Antonia Cordova? Wondering, Spock returned his attention to Simon and the twins, noting as he did that James was starting to cough.

"Yes," Spock said at last, "I suppose there is time for you to start on such a project. The Enterprise sustained considerable damage. I've heard that she will be in dock at least another two months."

Casually Kirk revealed, "I'm not going back."

Spock turned and looked at him with open surprise. Spock had been persuaded by Federation officials to remain on call as an envoy, and he had assumed that Kirk would keep command of the Enterprise. There was no reason for Kirk _not_ to remain captain. All charges against them had been waived in consideration of their role in protecting the Khitomer conference. They had been praised for bursting upon the scene in time to stop the assassination of Chancellor Azetbur, Admiral Smillie, and the president of the Federation. The captain's performance had been called "heroic".

"I…do not understand," Spock admitted.

Kirk shrugged and his lips stirred into a crooked smile. "I'm retiring. I've decided to launch a whole new career."

"Horse breeding?" Spock asked in disbelief.

"Marriage," Kirk replied matter-of-factly. "The horses will just be a hobby."

Spock was too stunned to speak.

"Oh, not right away," continued Kirk. "In Antonia's church it takes a few months of preparation. It's going to be tough, waiting..."

"Marriage." Spock had difficulty accepting the idea. It was so unlike James Kirk.

Quietly Kirk said, "I started to ask her a couple of months ago, but she sent me packing. She said there was something I had to take care of first. Some…relationship from my past that I had to get straightened out."

Thinking of Jim's many romantic conquests, Spock logically assumed, "A woman."

Kirk shook his head and with a meaningful look pointed squarely at Spock's chest.

"Ah," Spock said with sudden comprehension. "Now I see. You invited me here to prove that we have, indeed, reconciled."

Once more Kirk shook his head. "Wrong, Spock. I invited you here because I wanted her to meet my best friend."

Deeply moved, Spock turned his gaze upon the skyline. So many difficulties—no, near impossibilities—had resolved themselves favorably, bringing him to this point in time. By accident? Or was it something more? _You must have faith,_ he had told Valeris, but not in any religious connotation. Yet he seemed to sense, somewhere beyond the veil of consciousness, somewhere far above any logic, an unseen force that had guided him safely to this moment. A fanciful notion, unworthy of a Vulcan schooled by his father in atheism. Once, years ago, Lauren had asked him for hard evidence that God does not exist, and he had been unable to answer. Now, suddenly, he found himself wishing for the security that only full and true knowledge could bring.

But how could one know the unknowable?

"You've gone quiet on me," Kirk noticed.

"Indeed." Spock heard the bitter, strangled sound of James coughing. Rousing himself, he said, "I must take James indoors."

Picking up his frail son, he headed for the warmth of the house.

oooOOooo


End file.
